The Figgis Agency Yard Sale
by Red Witch
Summary: When Cheryl hires the gang to go through her deceased aunt's house, the Figgis Agency decides to raise money with a yard sale.


**The disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters is on sale for half off. Not even all of this idea is a hundred percent mine. Part of it is Snake Screamer's. But I decided to borrow it and run with it. And I got…**

 **The Figgis Agency Yard Sale **

"I can't believe it's come to **this,** " Lana groaned.

"Lana it's a way for us to make money," Cyril sighed. "Which we need. Desperately."

"It doesn't get more desperate than **this,** " Mallory agreed.

"It feels so…" Lana winced. "Dirty."

"This is dirtier than the **cocaine cartel**?" Ray asked. _"Seriously?"_

"Well maybe dirty is the wrong word?" Lana sighed. "I just feel that this…is…"

"Beneath us!" Mallory spoke up. "This is **beneath us**!"

"Again," Ray looked at her. "The **cocaine cartel**?"

"At least it wasn't a yard sale!" Mallory snapped.

"Technically it's not a yard sale," Cyril pointed out.

" _Hello?"_ Lana pointed around her. They were on a lawn in front of a well-kept suburban bright yellow house. On the lawn members of the Figgis Agency had several tables with several objects scattered everywhere. Pam and Cheryl were carrying things out of the house and Krieger was setting up a table of his own.

"Technically it's an estate sale," Cyril said weakly.

"Who's estate?" Mallory snapped. "Ozzie and Harriet's?"

"This has potential to make good money okay?" Cyril snapped. "And I don't see **you** bringing in any clients."

"Let me get this straight," Ray said. "Cheryl is paying the agency ten thousand dollars to go through her dead Aunt Thelma Tunt's house and clean it out?"

"That's right," Cyril nodded.

"Yeah my crazy Aunt Thelma was a real oddball," Cheryl said as she walked up to them. "Even for a Tunt."

"I assumed that since it was a Tunt it we were at least going to a **mansion!** " Mallory snapped. "I thought you said she was rich?"

"I also said she was **crazy,"** Cheryl gave her a look. "Remember?"

"I first got that impression when I saw her stuffed cow collection that filled an entire room," Mallory rolled her eyes.

"What's left of it," Lana remarked.

"I thought there were some kind of jewels in those damned stuffed things!" Mallory snapped. "Rich people stuff jewels into objects all the time."

"Well not this time, Madame Medusa," Lana sighed. "All we could find was stuffing."

"Again I was frustrated that I couldn't find any jewels!" Mallory snapped.

"I guess not every Tunt is rich," Cyril shrugged.

"Carol said her aunt was rich!" Mallory contradicted.

"Cheryl tends to lie," Lana pointed out. "A lot."

"Yeah I do," Cheryl nodded. "But not **this time**! She really was rich! Or at least I thought she was. She had a ton of money."

"Judging by the Cows R Us storeroom I think I have a clue where **most** of that money went," Ray groaned. "Some of those things had a price tag still on 'em. One of 'em was worth over two thousand dollars!"

"Two thousand dollars for a stuffed animal?" Mallory gasped.

"Yeah it was the brown one with the head you ripped off," Ray said.

"DAMN IT!" Mallory shouted.

"Yeah you destroyed the **one thing** that was probably valuable," Cheryl laughed.

"Thank god Sterling is in a coma…" Mallory wailed. "No! He **should** be here! He should see what his stupidity has led me into!"

"Mallory…" Lana sighed.

"Glamor and excitement my ass!" Mallory snapped. "Standing on a dead stranger's lawn hawking wares like a shopkeeper in Calcutta! Call Phillipe Marlowe! I just found the next exiting location for his new novel. We could call it Farewell My Lawn-Ly! Or the Big Sale! How about Perchance to Save? That one sounds like a real **nail biter**!"

"Isn't he dead?" Pam asked.

"So is our career…" Mallory groaned.

"It's not that bad," Cyril said. "Okay holding a last-minute estate sale is slightly unorthodox but still it's work."

"Do you know what a yard sale **is** Cyril?" Mallory asked.

"Estate sale," Cyril corrected.

Mallory ignored him. "A yard sale is basically selling all the crap you don't want that is filling up your house. To people you **don't** really want to know in the hope that they will buy your crap and fill up their house. Then you make just enough money you can fill up your house with some **other crap**! It's basically recycling crap!"

"The Circle of Crap," Ray quipped.

"Exactly!" Mallory agreed.

"Hey people make millions of dollars every year selling antiques and slightly used goods like these," Cyril told them. "Why not us?"

"This isn't Brimfield Cyril," Lana barked. "It's Sherman Oaks."

"Sherman Oaks is a very nice neighborhood," Cyril protested.

"It's boring Suburban Town!" Mallory snapped. "I mean seriously. Thelma was a Tunt. She should have at least **lived** like one!"

"I totally get what you're saying," Cheryl added. "And I agree with you."

"I mean I can see an apartment penthouse or a mini mansion but **this** …?" Mallory pointed at the house. "No offense Carol but your aunt must have been the most boring Tunt who ever lived!"

"Again, I agree with you **entirely** ," Cheryl nodded.

"I figured the best way to recoup any extra money was to have an estate sale," Cyril sighed. "And since we're selling some of our own stuff we're getting at least sixty percent of the profits."

"Sixty percent of nothing is still **nothing** Cyril!" Mallory snapped.

"We still get ten thousand dollars for the agency," Cyril snapped. "On top of a large percentage of what we earn!"

"And Cheryl says we can take home pretty much anything we want," Pam said cheerfully. She handed Lana a stuffed cow. "Here Lana. You can give AJ this. Mr. Moovey survived the slaughter."

"AJ's first heirloom," Mallory groaned. "What a milestone."

"It is kind of cute," Lana admitted. "AJ will love it."

"Are you sure there's no…?" Mallory asked hopefully. "How much is this one worth?"

"Only a few bucks," Pam shrugged. "I've seen 'em in the stores so…"

"Damn it!" Mallory snarled.

"Look our agency needs to make money and since Cheryl is our only regular paying client…" Cyril admitted.

"Our only client," Ray added.

"This is a chance for us to make money," Cyril went on. "And we can put handling estate sales on our resume."

"Our very checkered resume," Ray added.

"Look in this economy we need to diversify," Cyril kept going, ignoring Ray. "The more our agency can do, the more work we can get. We already can claim skills such as information gathering…"

"Such as what times the bars are open," Ray added. "And what the numbers of someone we want to screw are."

"Surveillance," Cyril added.

"Of each other," Ray added. "And people we want to screw. Both literally and figuratively."

"GPS tracking," Cyril added.

"Again, of people we want to screw as well as each other," Ray added.

"Insurance fraud," Cyril went on.

"Which we normally commit," Ray added.

"Protection," Cyril added getting increasingly annoyed.

Ray then added. "Of which most of our clients either screw us over or **die."**

"Criminal investigation," Cyril snapped.

"Which usually means covering our tracks so **we** don't get arrested," Ray went on.

"Infidelity investigation," Cyril growled.

"Since usually one of us is a major party to the infidelity in the first place…" Ray added.

"Victim assistance."

"Oh we do that all right," Ray spoke up. "Assist him by **making him** a victim. Of robbery, theft, damages, death…"

"What the hell Ray?" Cyril snapped.

"Just keeping it real, bro," Ray shrugged.

"Word," Pam agreed.

"I am _leaving,_ " Mallory snapped. "I will **not** suffer through this indignity any more than I have to. My God Trudy Beekman would tear me to shreds if she knew I'd been reduced to **this."**

"I'm taking off too," Lana said. "I have to drop Mallory off at the hospital and pick up AJ."

"That means we get her share of the yard sale profits, right?" Pam asked.

"You can **have** it!" Lana barked.

"I agree," Mallory sniffed. "Our share of the ten thousand dollars is one thing. But the rest of you can keep whatever scraps you can find. If any. It's not worth our dignity!"

"Fine!" Cyril snapped. "Just don't expect any hours either!"

"We get hours on our PI license too? Sweet!" Pam grinned.

"And Lana's not getting any," Cheryl laughed. "Even sweeter!"

"FINE!" Lana snapped. "It's only a couple hours and I can get them another way!"

"Maybe when Cyril decides to hold a Tupperware party?" Mallory asked sarcastically. "Come Lana. I have to tell Sterling this latest fiasco. Maybe it will inspire him to wake up?"

"You know that's not how comas work right?" Lana asked as they left.

"Okay so we're two people down but that's fine," Cyril sighed. "I'm sure if we all pitch in we can go through the entire house and take everything out."

"Yeah question," Ray spoke up. "Why didn't we go through the house first **before** setting up a yard sale?"

"Estate sale," Cyril corrected.

"Whatever," Ray shrugged. "My point is, we could have taken inventory first and **then** figure out what to sell."

"Because Cheryl said we had to come down and sell everything **today,** " Cyril said.

"And whatever we don't sell gets burned," Cheryl grinned.

"NO! No fires!" Cyril snapped.

"That doesn't raise any red flags for anyone but me here?" Ray asked.

"What you don't want any of the profits or hours either?" Cyril snapped.

"No, I'm just getting the formalities out of the way," Ray shrugged. "I'm on board."

"Don't worry," Cheryl waved. "Aunt Thelma was like one of the most boring people I ever met. She didn't like to go to parties. She never drank any alcohol or took anything stronger than a baby aspirin. She always went to church every week. She didn't like it when I set things on fire…"

"For a Tunt that is pretty tame," Pam admitted. "Come on! It will be fun! Think of it as looking for buried treasure!"

"More like looking for buried crap but I see your point," Ray admitted. "We do need the money in the worst way."

"And not all the things we sell will be from the house," Cheryl added. "Krieger's got stuff too."

"Used lab coats! Get your used lab coats!" Krieger called out cheerfully from his table. "Barely been worn and dry cleaned! I defy you to find any blood splatter! Used lab coats here!"

"We'd better get inside and look," Pam sighed.

"In every damn drawer and corner if we have to!" Cyril agreed. "Maybe we'll get lucky and there's a hundred dollars hidden in a bible or something?"

"So we're not telling Lana and Ms. Archer about the small collection of rings and jewelry we found in one of the drawers right?" Cheryl asked.

"No," Cyril said. "As long as we all get to keep one or two pieces for ourselves."

"Fine with me," Cheryl grinned.

"Me too," Ray nodded. "Pam…"

"What?" Pam asked.

"You are the blabbermouth around here," Ray said. "So don't say **anything!"**

"I won't! Jesus!" Pam rolled her eyes.

"Okay I will handle the sales with Krieger while the rest of you look in the house and bring out everything you can find," Cyril said. "Anything that looks somewhat valuable."

"Robot hands! Misshapen robot hands!" Krieger called out. "Got a surplus of irregulars here priced to go!"

"Everything and **anything** ," Cyril moaned.

An hour later…

"Well we got everything out of the kitchen but the refrigerator and the kitchen sink," Pam said as she put some plates on a table. "We cleaned out the Cow Room and the living room…"

"BE FREE! BE FREE!" Cheryl cried out.

"Cheryl is taking care of Aunt Thelma's plants," Pam told Cyril.

"By throwing them in the back yard," Cyril groaned.

"Not like we're going to get anything for those weeds," Ray said as he put a box down. "Have you sold anything?"

"An ashtray and a candy dish," Cyril grumbled. "For five dollars. Total! Did you find anything else we can sell?"

"We found thirty-five cents in the couch cushions," Pam remarked. "Look we're literally bringing out everything we can find in the damn house but so far we haven't found…"

"YEOWW!"

"CHERYL!" Cyril shouted. "DON'T THROW CACTUS AT THE CUSTOMERS!" Cyril stormed over.

"That might hurt business," Pam remarked. "Wait shouldn't that be cacti?"

"WHATEVER IT IS STOP THROWING IT CHERYL!" Cyril snapped. "OW!"

"HA HA!" Cheryl laughed.

"Yeah that will definitely hurt business," Pam snorted. "As well as Cyril."

Meanwhile at Krieger's table…

"Mmmm…okay," Krieger said to an elderly female customer. "You're taking one of the lab coats for five dollars, which is great for preventing stains when you're cooking or doing other things. The pen which doubles as a blow dart, also five dollars…"

"That will be perfect for my bridge tournament," The woman said. "Let's see Gladys Goldstein cheat now!"

"And I'm also throwing in a few blow dart refills for free," Krieger said. "As well as a free calculator because I have so many spare ones littering up my lab and it's just easier for me to give them away."

"Good," The woman said. "I can use it to add up my bridge tournament winnings."

"That will be ten dollars," Krieger grinned as he made the sale. "Anything else?"

"How much for the cocaine press?" The woman pointed.

"Twenty bucks," Krieger said.

"Eh pass," The woman waved. "I was thinking of getting it for my nephew but I think the shipping and handling would be too much."

"Yeah that's always a bitch," Krieger nodded.

"So is Gladys Goldstein," The woman remarked.

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

"CHERYL!" Cyril shouted. "STOP SMASHING PLATES! THAT WILL CUT INTO OUR PROFITS!"

"Okay!" Cheryl said cheerfully.

SMASH!

"CHERYL!" Cyril shouted.

"What?" Cheryl shouted back. "I smashed a stupid turtle paperweight. Not a dish!"

"God I hate my life…" Cyril groaned.

Sometime later…

"Are you sure you haven't found anything more valuable than **this**?" Cyril asked as he looked at the contents of a box.

"Cyril all we keep finding in boxes are either more boxes or more damned stuffed cows," Ray told him. "Man that woman loved stuffed cows."

"Other than the herd of stuffed cows I don't see anything weird about Aunt Thelma," Pam said. "Then again for a Tunt that's weird."

"You can't always judge people by their families," Ray pointed out. "Look at me. I come from a family of violent alcoholic weirdoes whose main source of income is basically drug dealing and crime. And they don't even do that very well."

"Uh Ray…?" Pam snickered.

"Oh my God…" Ray realized. "Dukes!"

"You have to admit," Cheryl said. "Being a cyborg with a black hand kind of puts you over the top."

"Dukes…" Ray groaned.

"So how are the sales going?" Pam asked. Cheryl wandered away from the group when she saw something.

"It's been almost two hours and we've barely sold any of this junk!" Cyril snapped.

"Or in some cases," Pam looked over at Krieger's table. "Evidence."

"What?" Krieger snapped. "I got all the bloodstains off the golf clubs! And a few other items."

"I didn't know you golfed," Ray asked.

"I don't. They're **women's** golf clubs," Krieger gave him a look.

Cyril groaned. "Ms. Archer?"

"Yup, yup, yup," Krieger nodded.

"I don't even want to know," Cyril sighed. "Also I don't want to know where you got a cocaine press!"

"I had an extra one from the drug cartel," Krieger shrugged.

"He tells me anyway," Cyril groaned. "Okay if anybody asks we found **that** in the basement. Which by the way you guys should check next."

"Hey I made at least thirty bucks selling half of my table!" Krieger protested.

"Krieger you're **giving away** half your table!" Cyril snapped.

"I have a lot of inventory," Krieger protested.

"What about Cheryl?" Pam asked.

"What about her?" Cyril groaned. "At least I got her to stop breaking things."

"Hey Cyril," Cheryl walked over with some money in her hand. "I just convinced some guy to buy a single dish for fifty bucks. Is that too much?"

Everyone looked at Cheryl. "What?" Cheryl asked.

"Cheryl, you are now promoted to sales," Cyril said.

"Ooh! Promotion on my first day!" Cheryl grinned.

"Ray, Pam…" Cyril sighed. "Go back into the house. And this time take Dr. Frank N Fuehrer here with you!"

"Ooh! Goody!" Krieger nodded. "I get to pick out more things to take home!"

"Yeah go nuts," Cyril rolled his eyes.

"Just make sure someone buys the golf clubs and cocaine press," Krieger told him. "I need to make some room in my lab for more crap."

"Starting to think Lana had the right idea," Cyril groaned.

Not long after…

"Who puts a lock on a basement?" Ray asked as he turned the light on.

"Hey security is security," Krieger said as he and Pam followed Ray down.

"Which is useless against a guy with a bionic arm," Pam reminded him. "Ooh! I hope we can find something to eat down here."

"What makes you think we can find food down in the basement when we couldn't find anything in the kitchen?" Ray asked. "Except a lot of bran flakes."

"Some people like to be regular," Krieger said.

"Some people actually have taste buds," Pam said. "God even Thelma's taste in food was boring. I could go for some fudge pops right about now."

"You're in luck!" Krieger pointed. There were several large storage freezers in the large basement."

"Who needs six large freezers?" Ray asked aloud.

"Well…" Krieger began.

"Don't answer that," Ray groaned.

"I'll bet they have fudge pops!" Pam shoved the guys aside. "Move Dick Nuts!"

She tried to open one but couldn't. "Aw man it's locked! Way to be stingy with the fudge pops Aunt Thelma."

"I've got it," Ray sighed as he used his bionic hand to break the lock.

"That thing is handy," Pam quipped.

"You know…?" Ray sighed.

"Great now I can get one of those…" Pam opened the freezer. "WHAT THE F$#$#$#$!"

"Oh boy…" Ray winced.

"Is that…?" Pam's jaw dropped.

"Well it's not a box of fudge pops," Ray winced.

"Holy frost-snacks!" Pam gasped.

"Score!" Krieger grinned. "I know what I'm taking home!"

"No, you're **not**!" Ray and Pam shouted.

"I guess Aunt Thelma wasn't the most boring Tunt who ever lived after all?" Ray groaned.

"So do you think there are any fudge pops under there or…?" Pam began. Ray and Krieger looked at her. "What?"

Meanwhile back outside…

"Thank you, come again," Cyril said cheerfully as he made another sale. There were now more people at the sale. "Well…Now we've made over two hundred dollars. Things are looking up."

"I guess," Cheryl sighed. "Still would have been fun to destroy everything and burn it to the ground."

"We are **not** doing that!" Cyril told her. "Again! By the way Cheryl I never told you how sorry I was for your loss."

"Really? What did I lose?"

"Your aunt?" Cyril gave her a look. "The one who _died?"_

"Oh her," Cheryl waved. "No big loss. I hated her. And she hated me. Called me a crazy little whore."

"Well if she hated you then why did she leave you her house and all its possessions in her will?" Cyril asked.

"I don't think she left me anything in her will," Cheryl shrugged. "I mean the funeral has probably just wrapped up by now so…"

"Wait, **what?** " Cyril asked.

"I never got anything legally if that's what you mean," Cheryl waved. "She probably left everything to my brother because she liked him and hated me."

"Wait _**what?**_ " Cyril did a double take.

A man walked up to them holding a lamp. "How much for this lamp right here?"

"Five bucks," Cheryl said.

"Wait what?" Cyril blinked. "Hang on…"

"Okay ten bucks!" Cheryl rolled her eyes.

"Wait…" Cyril gasped.

"Sold!" The man paid.

"Wait you can't…" Cyril began,

"Cyril if you wanted the lamp you should have called dibs on it!" Cheryl snapped. "Besides there's like a dozen other stupid lamps that look almost the same."

"Where are they?" The man asked.

"Over there," Cheryl pointed. "Next to that table with the ceramic cow."

"How much for the ceramic cow?" The man asked.

"Hang on a second," Cyril said.

"Ten dollars," Cheryl said. "But you also have to take a stuffed cow for free. We have a whole herd of them."

"Can I have two stuffed cows?" The man asked. "I have two nieces so…"

"Knock yourself out," Cheryl shrugged.

"Deal!" The man paid Cheryl and went to grab the items.

"Cheryl!" Cyril gasped.

"Cyril!" Cheryl mocked.

"Cheryl," Cyril's voice was low. "Are you telling me that we've been selling mostly items that don't belong to you?"

"Uh yeah," Cheryl said. "Why do you think that I made you come over here so fast without doing inventory?"

"Oh dear God…" Cyril groaned.

"I figured I'd destroy anything that sucked and sold the rest for money to burn," Cheryl grinned. "Preferably Aunt Thelma's stupid house."

"You…" Cyril fumed. "You…"

"Whomp, whomp!" Cheryl grinned. "Oh come on Cyril. It's not like we never sold anything we stole before."

"Oh my God," Cyril realized. "We **have** done this before."

"Cyril," Ray walked quickly up to them.

"Ray…" Cyril began.

"We have a problem," Cyril and Ray both said at the same time.

"What problem?" Cheryl asked.

" **You** for starters!" Cyril glared at Cheryl.

"The whole damn Tunt family is a problem," Ray groaned.

"Granted but we have a situation here," Cyril indicated the goods on the lawn.

"No, we have a situation in **there** ," Ray pointed to the house.

"No, we have a real problem out here!" Cyril tried to explain.

"No Cyril," Ray sighed. "We have a real problem **in there**!"

"Ray trust me," Cyril groaned. "This problem out here is bigger."

"I doubt it," Ray said.

"I have a big problem here Ray!" Cyril snapped.

"Trust me," Ray said. "Mine's bigger."

"Phrasing boom!" Cheryl cheered.

"SHUT UP!" Both Cyril and Ray told her.

"This idiot has put us in real mess!" Cyril pointed to Cheryl.

"You have no idea **how big**!" Ray said.

"Ray trust me! This problem out here is bigger than what's going on inside!" Cyril snapped.

"You wanna bet?" Ray gave him a look. Then Ray leaned forward and whispered in Cyril's ear. Cheryl leaned in to listen as well.

Cyril's eyes widened and took a step back. "You win. Yours is bigger."

"Duh!" Ray rolled his eyes.

"Ooh! A basement full of dead bodies in the freezer! I gotta see!" Cheryl ran off.

"I don't freaking **believe this** ," Cyril groaned.

"Now that I think about it," Ray realized. "That probably explains that small collection of men's rings we found."

"Just connected the dots, did you?" Cyril snapped. "I don't freaking **believe this**! I should have known something else would go wrong when Cheryl and the Tunts are involved."

"Something _**else?**_ " Ray asked. "What's your problem?"

"Apparently Cheryl isn't exactly the legal owner of the house and all these things," Cyril admitted to him.

"Are you saying she just heard her aunt was dead," Ray realized. "And dragged us over here so she could steal stuff that probably now belongs to **someone else**?"

"Apparently," Cyril grumbled.

"Well that explains why Cecil is here," Ray pointed. "With Tiffy…And the police."

"I **knew** it!" Tiffy dressed in black took the lead. "I **knew** that little conniving bitch would try to steal what rightfully belongs to Cecil before the body got cold! Where is she? Where is the little vulture?"

"Hey Cecil," Cyril sighed.

"Hey guys," Cecil Tunt sighed. He was also dressed in black and had a black cap on his head. "So you're here."

"And they're **trespassing!** " Tiffy screamed. "And…is this _**a yard sale**_ **?"**

"Technically an estate sale," Cyril winced.

"Really?" Ray asked in an angry high pitched tone. **"That's** what you have an issue with?"

"I DON'T FREAKING BELIEVE THIS!" Tiffy screeched. "This is ballsy even for **her!** "

"Tiffy calm down," Cecil said. "Take deep cleansing breaths."

"I'd rather take a baseball bat to your crazy sister's knees!" Tiffy growled.

"She doesn't mean that," Cecil said to the officers. "That's just the anger talking. And since she doesn't eat meat the low blood sugar."

"I'm Sgt. Barone," A tall dark haired policeman with a deep voice spoke. "This is my partner Officer Potter." He indicated a shorter African American woman next to him.

"Good you can arrest them!" Tiffy snapped. "For grand theft…EVERYTHING!"

"Technically we didn't sell everything," Ray indicated the mess Cheryl had made. "Cheryl broke a few things."

"She broke a few laws! That's what she did!" Tiffy snapped.

"Sirs Mr. Tunt here claims that this house and all his possessions belong to him," Officer Barone explained.

"Do you even have a permit for this yard sale?" Officer Potter asked.

"Estate sale and…Oh god no," Cyril winced.

"You need a permit for a yard sale?" Ray asked. "I didn't know that."

"It's an **estate sale**!" Cyril snapped.

"Again, **that's** the thing you have a problem with in **this situation?"** Ray snapped at him.

"It depends if you get more years in the slammer for an illegal yard sale or an illegal estate sale!" Tiffy snapped. "Which honestly I don't think you would."

"Depends on what neighborhood you're in and what you're selling," Officer Potter shrugged.

"Cheryl didn't tell us that Cecil was the rightful owner!" Cyril protested. "She let us think she inherited this house and all its possessions."

"To be fair officer," Cecil sighed. "My sister does things like that a lot."

"All this stuff is rightfully Cecil's!" Tiffy shrieked. " **All** of it! Except for what's by or on that table over there. I'm pretty sure **that's** not ours."

"Is that a **cocaine press**?" Officer Barone asked.

"We found in the basement," Cyril said quickly.

"That's also a Tunt trait," Tiffy grumbled.

"Huh," Cecil blinked. "Didn't know Aunt Thelma was into that."

"There's a **lot of things** you didn't know about your Aunt Thelma," Ray quipped. "She was into things you can't **believe**."

"Ray…" Cyril glared at him.

"I mean I knew about the stuffed toy cows she collected," Cecil went on. "But that was pretty tame by Tunt standards."

"True dat," Ray added. Cyril glared at Ray again.

"Is that the turtle paperweight I gave her last Christmas?" Tiffy gasped as she checked the wreckage on the ground. "IT IS!"

"Huh," Cecil said. "I didn't know Aunt Thelma collected paperweights too."

"There's a **lot** of things your Aunt Thelma collected you didn't know about," Ray added.

"Ray!" Cyril hissed.

"THAT BITCH!" Tiffy shouted. "I bet Cheryl smashed it on purpose because she knew I collect things like this!"

"She also does things like that a lot," Cecil groaned. "Where is she?"

"Yeah, where is she?" Tiffy snapped. "So I can kick her bony lying ass!"

"Didn't she beat your ass last time?" Ray asked.

"I was flying a Goddess Damned helicopter at the time!" Tiffy snapped. "I couldn't exactly fight back without us all crashing into the ocean now could I?"

"She has a point," Cecil said.

"It was an unfair fight," Ray agreed.

"So where is Ms. Tunt?" Officer Potter asked.

"Uhhhh…." Cyril and Ray said as they looked inside the house.

"She's in the house…" Cyril gulped. "Ray why don't you get her so we can clear up this tiny little misunderstanding…"

" _Misunderstanding?"_ Tiffy shrieked. "This is **robbery!** And selling stolen goods! RIGHT IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY!"

"Tiffy," Cecil sighed. "Calm down. You know my sister has a history of this sort of behavior."

"She has a history of being a crazy ass bitch!" Tiffy snapped.

"This is going to be one of **those** calls isn't it partner?" Officer Potter looked at Officer Barone.

"No, no…" Cyril said. "I'm sure if we get Cheryl…Out of the house Ray and talk to her quietly and calmly I am sure that we can clear up this tiny little misunderstanding without any other problems."

"HEY CYRIL!" Cheryl shouted. "WE FOUND ANOTHER BODY! IN FACT I THINK WE FOUND A MASS GRAVEYARD IN THE BASEMENT!"

"WHAT?" Officers Barone and Potter shouted.

"Oh boy…" Cyril winced.

"Guys! Guess what?" Cheryl came out squealing. "Aunt Thelma was a total freak! I mean she's got tons of old guys stacked in the freezer like cordwood."

"WHAT?" Cecil shouted.

"I knew there was something off about your aunt," Tiffy groaned. "No Tunt besides you Cecil is that nice!"

"Call for backup!" Officer Barone barked.

"Oh this will not end well," Cyril groaned.

The following day back at the Figgis Agency, another staff meeting was being held.

"So in a nutshell…" Lana was stunned. "Cheryl's aunt turned out to be a mass murderer of older single men?"

"It was like a scene from Arsenic and Old Lace without Cary Grant," Cyril groaned. "Needless to say the police quickly forgot about the illegal yard sale."

"I thought it was an _estate sale_?" Mallory sneered.

"It was a yard sale and everybody **knows it**!" Cyril shouted.

"By the time the cops let us leave they found at least fifteen more bodies either buried in the basement or stuffed in a bunch of freezers," Ray groaned. "They're calling Aunt Thelma the Sherman Oaks Slayer."

"We had to give back most of the money we earned," Cyril groaned. "Except the thirty bucks from Krieger's table."

"And they confiscated all her stuff we were going to sell as evidence," Pam grumbled. "Or take home."

"I am **not** giving back Mr. Moovey," Lana said. "AJ loves it."

"We didn't tell them about Mr. Moovey," Ray said. "Or some of the other things we snuck out."

"Let's just say there's some jewelry we're not going to hock anytime soon," Pam coughed. "And leave it at that."

"AJ's first piece of illegal confiscated evidence," Lana groaned.

"Kid's hitting a lot of milestones this year," Pam spoke up.

"I **knew** there were some jewels somewhere!" Mallory snapped.

"Thanks a lot Blabbermouth!" Ray snapped at Pam.

"You said we could keep whatever scraps we found," Pam pointed at Mallory. "So don't whine about missing your share."

"Besides Cecil and Tiffy would probably want to claim it anyway," Ray added. "Since it turns out that all that stuff is legally theirs. Well except for the evidence."

"Which reminds me," Krieger said. "You guys should probably give the rings to me so I can melt them down into gold ingots. Makes it so much easier to sell. What? I've done it before!"

"I am so glad I left when I did," Lana groaned. "The last thing I need is to be arrested by the police **again**!"

"Fortunately, Cecil agreed not to press charges," Ray groaned. "Apparently this sort of thing happens among Tunts a lot. And I don't just mean stealing dead people's stuff."

Mallory thought. "What about my golf clubs?"

"Not even a nibble," Krieger shrugged. "Which is a shame because they really look great now after all that time I spent on them getting those bloodstains off."

"Damn it," Mallory grumbled.

"They also took my cocaine press," Krieger grumbled. "Now I'm out twenty bucks!"

"We're out a bit more than that!" Ray snapped.

Krieger thought. "You think I could have sold it for **forty?"**

"Well…" Cyril said weakly. "On the bright side we did solve a mass murder case several decades old. And Cheryl is still paying us ten thousand dollars…"

"Worth it to see the look on Tiffy's stupid face," Cheryl giggled.

"And me and Ray still got some hours for our PI license," Pam added.

"So it's technically not a complete wash," Cyril shrugged.

"I wish I could wash my hands of the **lot** of you!" Mallory snapped. "Especially Carol!"

"The feeling is mutual," Cyril glared at Cheryl who was giggling manically.


End file.
